Lately poems with repetition and refrains have been intriguing me. From Triolets I've moved onto writing Roundels:

Oh, life is good and things are going fine
there isn't much that I'd change if I could.
Perhaps an aspect or two I'd refine
but life is good.

There was a while I misunderstood,
so focused on the negative I'd pine
away quite unaware of where I stood.

The greatest things in life - that's women, wine
and song - are near enough to mine, and should
I seek, so too is company divine.
Oh, life is good!
I love sonnets. This is my first attempt at the Petrarchan rhyming scheme, but the words still flowed as easily as the wine.

I hope that sorrows never learn to swim;
To make their way upriver like a trout.
For if they do then we shall be without
a way to put them down, and at their whim
would cry a flood to cure any drought.
We do need alcohol to bring about
a cure for melancholy with no doubt
it will succeed. No need for feeling grim.
But maybe there are other ways to deal;
perhaps another way to face this grief.
Who knows? It may be drowning doesn't work,
that it merely postpones, and cannot heal.
While drink provides a moment of relief
it might just push the sorrow down to lurk.
So today I found out that I didn't fail any subjects this semester. Given what I was submitting, this comes as almost a surprise. For Physical Chemistry I only just scraped through. I bet I would have failed if it weren't for giving this answer to a question on the exam:

The steady state approximation is
not something which I studied for at all.
So I'll have to give this question a miss
instead of banging my head on the wall.
I guess I could just write down random words
on the subject this question is about,
but that notion is really quite absurd
my ignorance would surely be found out.
And so I must apologise to you -
this is inexcusable on my part -
A silly rhyming answer will not do:
this is a course of Science, not of Art!
But I shall write a sonnet in this test
and hope I got enough marks in the rest.
This semester just gone I took four courses. I, um, submitted poetry as part of my final assessment for three of those.

I spent far longer working on this Sonnet than I did on the essay I put it at the start of.

The faces of the crowd are focused on
her lively racing pen upon the board.
With symbols from that pen a light is shone
into the cluttered mindset of the horde.
And as her hands these arcane patterns trace
a murmur from the crowd begins to rise.
They start to notice what they'll have to face
and anger sparks and flashes in their eyes.
The knowledge that they hold in high esteem -
the formulae and facts explaining all -
once firm and strong as marble, now are steam
compared to what is written on the wall.
But while they should be thankful for this proof,
their hatred shows just how much they love Truth.

First Post.

Dec. 6th, 2009 07:20 pm
So... Dreamwidth, eh? I wanted to start with something light, but it didn't pan out. Maybe I'll finish it one day. But I wrote a silly little triolet instead, 'cause they are easy enough:

Sometimes the verses flow with ease
Am I at the whims of a Muse?
I can't just write whene'er I please
Am I at the whims of a Muse?
At times I wish I could just seize
her, make her dance the jig I choose.
Sometimes the verses flow with ease
Am I at the whims of a Muse?

So that is a first post out of the way.



February 2013



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